


Idol Hands

by track_04



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, KAT-TUN (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Humor, Other, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-01
Updated: 2011-04-01
Packaged: 2017-11-14 17:35:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/517793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/track_04/pseuds/track_04
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life's not easy when you're Nakamaru Yuichi's hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Idol Hands

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [In the Palm of His Hands](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/11592) by speckled_writer. 



> Originally written for Cycle 7 of jentfic_remix. (The pairing is actually Nakamaru's hands/Koki's hands, but that seemed like an odd thing to make a tag for, so.)

☝

People think that being an idol is hard work. Generally speaking, they're right.

What they don't know--or even seem to take the time to consider, really--is just how hard it is to be specific _parts_ of an idol.

Take idols' mouths, for instance; often smiling, sometimes smirking or, more rarely, frowning, and always straining to convey the appropriate emotional response in any given situation. Then there were idol voices, spending most of their time forcing answers to question after question, giving long-winded MCs, or struggling to hit that perfect note (or, at least, the closest approximation possible). Just imagine, for a moment, being an idol's ears and constantly listening to the screams of excited fans and people's pleas for attention or, even worse, spending your days as an idol's hair, being cut and teased and straightened and dyed and, more often than not, drowning in product just to stay in line with the latest fashion trends.

Idols definitely didn't have it easy, from the top of their head to the tip of their toes, each individual piece of them, no matter how large or small, taking on their share of the stresses of idol life.

Now, whether or not the share that any individual part took on was _fair_ or somehow better or worse than any of the other pieces, that was a slight point of contention. And perhaps even the source of the age-old argument over which part, out of all the hard working parts of an idol, really had it worst of all.

There were a lot of arguments for each and every part having it worse than the othera, and counter-arguments about just why all those arguments were wrong, and counter-counter arguments to go along with those.

But when it all boiled down to it, the answer to the question was simple.

The part of an idol that really had it worst of all was, clearly, their hands.

After all, if you stopped to think about it, even non-idol hands had it hard, expected to spend their days picking up things, writing, shaking hands, patting friends on the back and, even when needed, contributing to conversations. Hands were often expected to create something from nothing, could map out a person's life (if you knew the right places to look) and, in certain cases, could even convey emotions when mere words and expressions alone wouldn't do.

For idol hands, these things were perhaps even worse; they were always the first thing that people went for when they wanted attention, grabbing with their own strange and often clammy hands and seeking a shake or just a brush of fingers. They provided signatures and flashed peace signs, clutched mics and held all manner of strange props for photo shoots, and at the end of the day they still had to do all the everyday things that normal hands did as well.

And in spite of all this, they never really got the recognition that they deserved.

Especially not if those hands happened to belong to one Nakamaru Yuichi.

Nakamaru's hands were nice, hard-working hands, if they did say so themselves (and they often did, much to Nakamaru's wrists' and knees' utter dismay). They were attractive hands, but also highly functional--soft, but not so soft that one might think they'd never seen a day of work in their life. They were steadfast and determined, committing themselves fully to any task that they undertook, whether it be brushing Maru's teeth (something said teeth never seemed to appreciate quite as much as they should) or washing that night's dishes (a thankless job, if there ever was one), or offering a high five to one of Nakamaru's group mates (whose hands ranged from calloused to sweaty to skittish about contact, all of which Nakamaru's hands took in stride and generally without comment).

Despite all of this, Nakamaru's hands couldn't help but feel that a lot of their better qualities went unnoticed. Or, at least, they seemed to go unnoticed by anyone that _mattered_.

I mean, sure, Kame's ankles seemed to hold a grudging respect for them, and Ueda's biceps always seemed to be slightly awed by their attention to detail, and Junno's mouth and teeth shot them smiles and horrible puns full of appreciation when they could, but it wasn't the attention that they really wanted.

Hands were well-known for their romantic nature (there was a reason that the expression was holding someone's heart in the palm of your _hands_ , after all) and, though some might consider them more serious than most, Nakamaru's hands were no exception.

What they really wanted, deep down in their most secret places, at the tips of their ring finger and hidden beneath their heart lines, was for Koki's hands to notice them. Or any part of Koki, really--for all that Nakamaru and Koki, as people, were friends, their separate parts seemed content to ignore one another and maintain a polite amount of distance and only ever shared the most basic small talk.

It was something they dreamed of late at night, lying against Nakamaru's pillow, fingers curled upwards as they contemplated the ceiling and tried to ignore the soft snores escaping Nakamaru's lips and nose and the answering bitching from Nakamaru's ears that they were all noisy and inconsiderate. Sometimes they'd imagine Koki's fingers brushing against their own accidentally-on-purpose and dreamed of all the coy responses they'd give in return. Sometimes they dreamed of resting against Koki's hands while they were in the car riding out to location, pressed up close on the seat, knuckle to knuckle and fingertip to fingertip. And sometimes, when they felt like being especially unrealistic, they imagined Koki's hands curling around them during a break in filming, fingers wound up with their own and neither of them saying a word.

But, for all of these daydreams and their not-quite-so-secret romantic nature, Nakamaru's hand never really imagined that any of this would really happen. It was all a fantasy, and they were far too realistic to let their imagination skew their view of reality, no matter how tempting it might have been.

And besides, life was hard when you were Nakamaru Yuichi's hands, and they knew from years of experience that whenever they got their hopes up about something, those hopes were almost always dashed. So, they kept their daydreams to themselves and when they thought their hopes might be trying to slowly creep their way upwards, they forced them back down again.

And perhaps because the universe just liked messing with them, since they didn't dare to hope, that of course meant that it actually happened.

Sort of, anyway.

☝☝

The first time it happened, they were all relaxing and enjoying a break between filming for a PV. Oddly enough, this setting was the one that Nakamaru's hands dreamed that something would happen in the most, and one of their personal favorites. Which, of course, meant that they weren't prepared for anything to actually happen outside of their own daydreams _at all_.

This probably explained the way that they froze up, unable to think or move or say anything (let alone any of the intelligent, witty, flirty things they'd often imagined they'd say in just such this situation) when they felt one of Koki's hands cover one of them, grip slightly nervous and uncertain, but most definitely there.

Above them, they could hear Koki's and Nakamaru's eyes having some sort of pleading match. They managed to catch a few key phrases, like "just fan service" and "not appropriate" and "help a brother out", but missed the majority of the conversation, too focused on the way Koki's hand fit around them.

They were just remembering that it was probably rude to let a moment like this pass and not say anything or make _some_ sort of comment when they were yanked away without their permission, Nakamaru's brain apparently taking executive control over the situation, forcing them up towards Nakamaru's chest while Nakamaru's feet stumbled back a step beneath them.

They sighed softly and started to fumble with one of the buttons on Nakamaru's costume, feeling slightly embarrassed and highly disappointed in their own reaction to the situation.

A few feet away, Koki's hands said nothing, just hung there next to his thighs, plucking at his pants in what might have been dejection.

All Nakamaru's hands could really do was sigh and curl in on themselves slightly, thinking that they'd do better next time.

☝☝☝

The second time it happened, it was mostly just wishful thinking on the part of Nakamaru's hands.

They were on a game show and Nakamaru's hands were resting against Nakamaru's thighs, minding their own business and trying to seem attentive while the host droned on and on, explaining the rules of the game that they were all apparently here to be a part of. Nakamaru's hands weren't really big on games, so they ignored most of what was being said until they heard mentions of a plank and some sort of balancing contest and _hand holding_.

It was the "hand holding" part that really got their attention. They perked up as soon as they heard the words, fingers worrying at Nakamaru's pants nervously as they tried to remember all the smooth lines they'd been practicing just in case they ever got another shot at Koki's hands again.

They decided that maybe simple and polite, but still friendly and interested, would work best--maybe a comment on the state of Koki's nails or asking if they'd seen any good movies lately. They wiped themselves against Nakamaru's pants carefully, not wanting to have clammy palms when the moment finally happened. And then they waited, clenching into fists as Nakamaru's legs and feet took them over to the plank...

… only to find one of Kame's hands on one side and one of Ueda's on the other.

Below them, Nakamaru's feet mumbled something about switching places with Kame for the game really being the best plan of action if they wanted to win, given just how unsteady Koki's feet and legs could be, and Nakamaru's hands couldn't help but think a bit bitterly that they didn't really care about winning the game.

Unfortunately, none of the rest of Nakamaru seemed to be of this opinion, so they simply sighed, trying not to act too disappointed as they curled around Kame and Ueda's hands and secretly hoped that something went wrong with filming and they were all forced to switch places again.

☝☝☝☝

The third time it happened, it was a gut reaction more than anything.

Nakamaru's hands had been on edge for awhile, the recent brush and near miss with Koki's hands and the conflicting messages they seemed to be getting from Nakamaru's heart and brain setting them on edge. They'd tried to drown out their nervousness with copious amounts of beer (something Nakamaru's tongue approved of heartily, even if his liver was making a fuss), one of them constantly curling around Nakamaru's glass while they both steadfastly ignored just how close Koki's hands were, busy with their own beer and set of chopsticks just across the table. They were close enough to reach out and touch, but still silent and aloof as ever.

They drank a bit more after that, trying to muster their courage.

This attempt to bolster their courage was apparently a failure, since the first thing they did when they saw Koki's hands reaching out for them as Nakamaru and Koki's feet stumbled away from the restaurant and towards a nearby ramen stand was to jerk away without thinking, moving to huddle against Nakamaru's far shoulder. They could hear arguing going on, but they mostly ignored it, fingers worrying against the fabric of Nakamaru's shirt, kicking themselves mentally and avoiding looking at Koki's hands, afraid to see disappointment or annoyance there. They were getting enough of that from what they could see of Koki's eyes.

They thought, at one point, that they could hear Koki's hands mumbling some sort of apology, but it was hard to make out over the bickering going on from other assorted body parts.

Later, when they stopped to think about it, they decided that the apology had just been a combination of alcohol and wishful thinking on their part, anyway.

They still made a point to swear off alcohol (much to Nakamaru's liver's great delight and his tongue's dismay) for the foreseeable future anyway.

☝☝☝☝☝

The fourth time it happened, Nakamaru's hands were pretty sure the failure was more Koki's hands' fault than their own.

After the disaster that was the semi-drunken dinner and their less than subtle reaction to Koki's hands' attentions, Nakamaru's hands decided that they needed a plan. A plan that consisted of waiting around and looking as available and welcoming as possible, maybe flashing a bit of finger or palm when they could get away with it. Tasteful, relatively classy, but still provocative enough to (hopefully) earn them some of the interest they so desperately wanted.

Unfortunately, they really didn't get much of a chance to test this plan out beforehand, other than a few brief conversations with Nakamaru's elbows and nose, who all seemed to think it was a great idea.

That probably should have been their first clue that it would all end up horribly, since Nakamaru's nose was a horrible suck-up and his elbows had notoriously bad taste.

But they didn't stop to consider any of this until _after_ all was said and done and so, when Koki settled next to Nakamaru on the couch in their dressing room, leaving a mere few inches separating them from the objects of their desire (or, at least, their mildly embarrassing fantasies), they did their best to look beckoning but not desperate, inching over to rest against the leather of the sofa next to Koki's thigh, fingers curled enticingly as they waited.

… and waited.

….. and waited.

They could see the way that Koki's hands fidgeted against his thighs, moving a bit closer and then away again, like they were thinking of moving towards them, but kept changing their mind. One of Koki's hands even went so far as to curl its fingers around Koki's thigh, close enough that Nakamaru's hands could admire the way Koki's nails were trimmed, short, precise and altogether very manly.

Nakamaru's fingers twitched, tracing idle patterns on the well-worn leather of the sofa as they mumbled a quiet compliment about Koki's hands' nail grooming choices. They were fairly certain that the compliment made sense and wasn't entirely stupid, but the way that Koki's fingers twitched once, twice, before Koki's hands slid away and clenched in Koki's lap, where they stayed for the rest of the break, huddled together and mumbling something that Nakamaru's hands couldn't quite make out, seemed to say otherwise.

And that was when Nakamaru's hands decided that maybe being coy wasn't the way to go, either.

✌

The fifth time it happened, Nakamaru's hands decided that they'd had enough of silly games and near misses and just went for it.

This time, when Koki's hand reached across the bed for Nakamaru's, they moved forward and met them halfway. They didn't bother trying to make small talk or playing hard to get or using lines that they'd picked up from Nakamaru's forearms.

Instead, this time they just curled back around Koki's hands and squeezed.

And Koki's hands squeezed back.

(And if Koki's and Nakamaru's lips and tongues were doing things up north, Nakamaru's hands were too content where they were to really stop to think about it. Besides, it wasn't really polite to stare.)


End file.
